


Rebel Love Song

by sourwulfur



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Demonic Possession, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Purgatory, Superwolf, Torture, redo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 15:49:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1610672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sourwulfur/pseuds/sourwulfur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles Stilinski moves back to Beacon Hills, nothing will ever be the same. Demons, werewolves, and hunters, oh my!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cover

**Author's Note:**

> This is a reworking of my other story of the same name. There will be several aspects of the story that are going to remain the same, but others are changing. I hope you enjoy!


	2. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A return to town.

It was raining when they rolled past the Beacon Hills city limits sign. Dean Winchester glanced into the rear view mirror to catch sight of his seventeen year-old nephew who was asleep in the back seat. Stiles Stilinski used the dufflebag that belonged to Dean's brother, Sam, as a pillow and Dean's favored leather jacket as a blanket. Castiel would meet them at the Stilinski house, and had flown ahead to make sure the house was still habitable. While Dean had no real desire to settle, he and Sam had promised John Stilinski that should something happen to him, they would take Stiles home, help him settle into a normal life.

 

The lights turning on in the vacant Stilinski house caught the attention of the neighbors hours before the black Impala several remembered from years before pulled to a stop in the driveway. “Should we let him sleep?” Sam asked, sighing as he looked to his elder brother over the hood of the car after they climbed out.

 

“Yeah,” Dean said with a sigh of his own, running a dirty and slightly cut up hand over his face. “I'll carry him. Can you call Jody and let her know we made it?”

 

“Sure.” Sam nodded and made his way into the lit house, pulling his cell phone out to call Sheriff Jody Mills, one of their friends that Stiles had stayed with while they made arrangements.

 

Dean struggled to get the lanky teen out of the backseat, but eventually, he got his sleeping nephew out of the car and into the house, ignoring the stares of neighbors through the safety of their curtains. He sighed once again as he kicked the front door shut behind him, distancing them from the rest of the world.

 

\---

 

 

“Do I have to go?” Stiles asked as he poked the eggs that Castiel had made him for breakfast. All he wanted to do was to go find the demon that had killed his father. The thing had possessed the man for a while before hand. It still angered Stiles that he had not even realized that something was wrong. He knew better than that, and he should have seen the signs.

 

“Yes!” Sam insisted from the other end of the table, where he was searching for local part-time jobs on his laptop. “Stiles, this is what your father wanted. You know that.”

 

“Yeah, but...”

 

“No 'buts',” interrupted Dean as he came into the room. “C'mon, let's go. Got last-minute paperwork to do to get you enrolled.”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes but grabbed the backpack sitting on the floor by his feet before he followed Dean out to the Impala. Dean would drive him around until they could get him a car of his own. “Trust me, kid, I know how you feel,” Dean finally said after pulling out of the driveway. “But, revenge will lead you to places that you don't want to go. It's better this way.”

 

The teen remained silent watching the town fly past the windows. Stiles had no real memories of Beacon Hills. His father had said he'd only been eight when they left, but Stiles could barely recall it. Bobby had said it was a result of having watched his mother die. He'd blocked the event any anything associated with it, including Beacon Hills.

 

Neither Dean nor Stiles said anything else the rest of the drive, nor as they crossed the parking lot to the school building after getting there. Stiles awkwardly shifted his backpack on his shoulder, feeling eyes on him as they walked. He really wished he had a knife on him, or a gun, or a baseball bat, even. Having a weapon always made him feel safer.

 

Stiles saw Dean's fingers flick toward his jacket, which concealed a weapon. Obviously, he felt the same as Stiles did. After Stiles and Dean went inside the school building, Allison argent turned to look at Scott McCall, her boyfriend of a year. “Do you know who that was?” she asked him with a slight frown.

 

“New kid?” replied Scott, tilting his head slightly to the right.

 

“That was _Dean Winchester_ and I’m guessing his nephew.” Allison brushed her curled hair out of her face, watching the double doors that the two disappeared through. “They're hunters.” Scott seemed unimpressed, and Allison sighed at his response, shaking her head a little. “I mean, they're _the_ hunters. They've killed more supernatural beings than any other family.”

 

“Oh...” That seemed to drop a sense of realism to Scott, and he seemed to wilt slightly. “Maybe we should let Derek know.”

 

Allison nodded as they started to walk toward the school hand-in-hand. “After school. He's probably at work right now, anyway.”

 

\---

 

When Allison and Scott got to their first class several minutes later, Stiles stood at the front shifting his weight from foot to foot as their teacher checked over the paper the new student had handed him. Allison seemed to watch Stiles warily as they took their seats near the back, though Stiles' attention remained on his shoes until the bell rang, making him tense for a moment as his gaze snapped to the door. “Alright guys,” Mrs. Jennifer Laveau, their teacher, said with a smile toward the new student as she handed the paper back to him, “this is Stiles. Why don't your introduce yourself and take a seat?”

 

Stiles lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “I'm Stiles Stilinski,” he introduced, frowning a little at the murmurs his familiar name brought to the room. “I used to live here, moved away, and now I’m back. Simple as that.”

 

He said nothing else, and made his way toward an empty seat toward the back of the room, paying no mind to the eyes that followed him. “Alright well,” said Jennifer, clearing her throat a little as she tucked her blonde hair behind each ear, “who wants to open discussion on last night's reading?”

 

Stiles did not seem to pay any attention in class, doodling in his notebook instead, pictures of demons and monsters that filled his dreams each night.

 

After classes that day, Stiles went for a run in the woods near the edge of town. When he came across a vaguely familiar stream, Stiles slowly came to a stop, breathing heavily. The teen dropped the bag he had brought with him and pulled out a bottle of water to take a drink from. Then, Stiles sat down on one of the large boulders near the stream and took out his sketchbook along with a charcoal pencil. The teen drew the stream and woods in front of him, along with a large block wolf that often appeared in his dreams and nightmares. Stiles was still aware of his surroundings, though most of his focus was on his drawing. He stopped several times at different sounds, in case he actually needed to grab the knife he had stored in his backpack.

 

He was not sure how long he'd been there when the sound of near-by laughter caused him to look up before a group of people came running into sight along the nearby path. The leader of the group stopped upon seeing Stiles, making those that followed him stop as well. “Stiles,” the man in front said, making the teen's brow furrow. “I didn't know you were back.”

 

“Oh, yeah,” Scott McCall said from beside Derek Hale, the leader of the group, suddenly remembering what he was supposed to tell the other man.

 

“Do I know you?” Stiles asked, frowning when his question made the young man flinch. He opened his mouth to say something else, but cut off at a familiar _whoosh!_ of air somewhere off to his right.

 

“Stiles, you should come home,” Castiel stated as he took several steps toward the teen.

 

“Where the hell did he come from?” questioned one of the boys in the group that Stiles had not really met, though he thought the guy's name was Jackson. “Did you see where he came from?”

 

Stiles ignored the question and how the group seemed to go restless, except for their leader, who did not seem surprised at Castiel's sudden appearance. “Let's go,” Stiles mumbled as he got up and shoved his things into the bag that he had abandoned earlier.

 

Castiel's eyes narrowed as he studied the group, waiting for Stiles to finish up. “Hale,” the angel finally said, with a slight nod. “My condolences on your family.”

 

Without another word, Castiel and Stiles walked out of the clearing. As they drew farther away, Derek and his friends heard Stiles laughing slightly as Castiel muttered under his breath about having to walk. “What the hell just happened?” questioned Isaac Lahey, one of the other men in the group, after a moment, making the others look toward him.

 

“I'm not entirely sure,” replied Derek with a slight shake of his head. “Let's get back.”

 

\---

 

 

Stiles was helping Castiel wash the dishes after dinner when a slightly hesitant knock on the front door echoed down the front hallway. “Got it!” Dean called as he finished coming downstairs from having showered and changed into comfortable clothes, before opening the front door. The man's brow furrowed when he found a vaguely familiar man younger than him and Sam standing there. “What do you want?”

 

“Dean!” Cas chastised from the kitchen, making Stiles smirk in amusement as he handed a plate to the angel for him to rinse off.

 

“Right, manners or whatever. Can I help you, kid?” Dean crossed his arms over his chest. It was as the other man hesitantly opened his mouth to reply that Dean finally realized who he was looking at. It was in the eyes. “Derek?”

 

“Uh, yeah, hi,” said Derek Hale slowly, rubbing the back of his neck in an absentminded gesture. “So, you're back.”

 

“Yeah, would've given a head's up, but I thought you left again.” Dean opened the screen door separating them and let Derek into the house. “Sammy! Get down here.”

 

“For a while, yeah. I had to clear my head before I messed up things here.” Derek's eyes flicked over to Stiles as the teen entered the room drying his hands, and then to the stairs as Sam came down them.

 

Sam laughed slightly when he spotted Derek standing near the door. “Derek Hale. You're all grown up now,” the younger Winchester stated. “Keeping the pups in line?”

 

Derek nodded stiffly. “They do the same for me.”

 

“Good,” stated Dean with a nod of his own, glad that Derek at least had _someone_ to look after him. The kid deserved as much after everything. “Did you want to talk?”

 

“Yeah. You should be caught up on things.” Derek nodded before he followed Sam into the other room when the younger Winchester gestured for him to follow and Dean looked to Stiles.

 

“Homework, kiddo,” Dean said with a nod toward the stairs. “Get going.”

 

Stiles groaned and rolled his eyes, but made his way up to his bedroom anyway. Instead of homework, however, Stiles worked on unpacking his dufflebag. He never had much with him on the road; just clothes, weapons, and sketchbook. The teen focused on cleaning his handgun after he was unpacked, ignoring the fact that he had homework.

 

He was just reassembling it when Cas came into the room. “What're they talking about?” Stiles asked as he sat the gun down on the top of his desk before turning around to face the angel.

 

“Goings on in Beacon Hills since they were here last,” replied Cas, slowly walking around the room.

 

“You mean when they got me and Dad?”

 

“No. When Laura died.” Cas spoke evenly, as if it was something that Stiles should have known already.

 

Stiles, however, was completely confused. His brow furrowed as he glanced toward the door and straightened up in his chair slightly. “Who was Laura?”

 

“Derek's sister.” Cas nodded a little, looking over at Stiles as he turned to face the teen. “Oh. You don't know about that.”

 

“No, he doesn't,” replied Sam as he walked into the room. “But he probably _should_. We all need to be on the same page. Dean's out with Derek, checking some things out.”

 

Stiles kept his gaze on his youngest uncle while Sam walked over to sit on Stiles' bed. “So... what's the story?”

 

“The Hale family has been here for a long time. They're all... well, they're a type of werewolf. They're not... they don't eat hearts or anything; and, they can control the shift when it's not a full moon. Only the feral go after humans. Some of their family is... _was_ human.” Sam absently fiddled with a knife that Stiles had left sitting out as he spoke, keeping both Cas and Stiles' attention. “Right around the time your mom died, most of the Hale family was killed by hunters. Several years later, Laura Hale was killed. Dean came out and spent a week with Derek. I don't know what happened after that; we'll have to ask Dean details.”

 

Stiles laughed slightly at that, running his fingers through his hair several times. “Yeah, because, Dean is always so forthcoming with information.” Stiles shrugged when Sam glared at him, shifting side to side in his chair. It really did not matter, though. As Stiles glanced out his bedroom window to the first-quarter moon, he could not help but think that things were only just starting to get interesting in Beacon Hills.

 


	3. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Settling in.

It was still dark when Stiles woke up the next morning, quietly changing into a pair of basketball shorts and a loose-fitting muscle tee. He laced up his running shoes, and tugged on a red hoodie before grabbing his phone, keys, and mp3 player. Then, the teen made his way out of the house, making as little noise as possible. Once he was at the sidewalk, he put in his earphones, started playing his music, and took out in a jog down the concrete beneath his feet. He focused on each step as he took it, making sure he put one foot far enough in front of the other so that he would not trip himself up.

 

Stiles strayed off of the sidewalk and into the woods as he reached the bike path entrance. The ground was rocky, less steady and Stiles had to focus a little more. He glanced down every few steps, and found himself tensing increasingly as he grew further and further away from the house. Stiles slowly came to stop near the stream he had been at the evening before, with the first rays of light peeking through the trees and he bent down to tie his shoe. As he straightened up, he slowly slid one hand into his hoodie pocket and used it to carefully open a pocket knife he always kept in there. Once it was open, the teen spun around and threw it as hard as he could at a spot directly behind him where he could sense someone following him.

 

The man behind him barely caught the blade before it struck him in the face and he smirked as he dropped the blade to the forest floor. “Hello,” the man said in a dark, silky voice that sent chills down Stiles' spine. “You must be Stiles.”

 

Stiles' eyes narrowed as he watched the man, trying to place where he had seen the other. However, Stiles had very little time to think before there was someone practically appearing out of nowhere in front of him. Stiles found himself staring at the back of Derek’s leather jacket as the young man practically growled at the unknown person. “Go away, Peter,” Derek insisted, his voice low but even, leaving no room for argument.

 

Peter just lifted his head slightly, upper lip curling in a slight snarl while his eyes remained trained on Stiles just over Derek’s shoulder. The young hunter was completely lost, which only irritated him to the point of scowling as he crossed his arms over his chest. Though a voice in his head told him to drop both arms, to be ready for an impending attack, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Dean. Stiles dropped his arms after a second, while the other two men continued glaring at one another and Stiles rolled his eyes before turning his back and walking away. “Let me know when you two are done with your testosterone battle,” he called, waving over his shoulder without looking back.

 

“You're not supposed to be here, Peter,” Derek said only after Stiles had left the area, and he relaxed just slightly. It was evident in how he stood, however, that Derek did not fully trust the elder man. “That was part of the deal.”

 

“I'm doing no one harm,” replied Peter with a sigh and a shake of his head. He then rolled a shoulder in a mock of a shrug. “I heard we had new neighbors and was... _intrigued_.”

 

“Go be intrigued elsewhere.”

 

Neither moved for several more moments, but eventually Peter sighed and turned around, walking off in the opposite direction of where Stiles had gone. Derek did not relax until Peter was gone from sight, and even then, he remained cautious. The young man turned to look down the path that Stiles had taken away from him, and he considered going after the teen. After a minute, though, Derek went off toward the house instead.

 

Once he got there, Derek rolled his eyes at the sound of his pack in the kitchen of the re-built Hale house. A slight smile tugged upward on his lips, however, as he climbed the steps onto the porch. It was nice to have the house feel _lived in_ again. “Who let Isaac cook?” questioned Derek as he walked into the kitchen, raising an eyebrow at the smoke coming from the burning food on the stovetop.

 

“Shit!” the curly-haired teen exclaimed, running over to the stove from where he had been engaged in conversation with Scott and Allison.

 

Erica chuckled softly, tugging a hairtie off of her wrist to pull her hair up and back with. “We were giving him another chance,” she informed Derek, gently nudging Isaac aside so she could toss out the burnt food and rinse off the pan in the sink. “Good run, today?”

 

“Shouldn't you be getting ready for school in your own homes?” questioned Derek as he gently grabbed Erica’s shoulders and shifted her away from the stove so that he could make them all breakfast.

 

“We got ready early, wanted to spend time with you, oh Alpha,” Scott smirked as he spoke, leaning against the wall behind him. The teen just laughed when Derek glared over at him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You were up early,” Sam commented when Stiles sat down across from him at the table, freshly showered and changed for school.

 

Stiles just hummed as he grabbed a glass of orange juice that Castiel had placed in front of him, saying something about it being freshly squeezed. “Went for a run,” Stiles said idly as he chewed on a bite of toast while Dean and Cas sat down at the table as well.

 

Dean frowned a little as he watched Stiles' hesitant movements, and he glanced over at Sam, who simply shrugged. “You okay, kid?” asked Dean. He continued to study his nephew carefully as they sat there.

 

“Yeah. Headache.” Stiles shrugged a little, rubbing the side of his temple for a second before grabbing his juice again. “I'm fine, though. It'll pass.” Stiles nodded a little and ran a hand through his hair. “Wanna give me a ride to school?”

 

“I'll do it,” offered Sam, starting to stand up from the table.

 

“No. No one drives my car but me,” Dean said, cutting off Sam's offer. “I've got it.”

 

Cas glanced between the siblings but said nothing as Sam sat back down with a sigh. They all knew that rule was broken sometimes. “Alright. Stop and get some food, yeah? We need more of everything.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” replied Dean with a dismissive wave of his hand, getting up from the table in order to go get his favored leather jacket off of the coat stand. “C'mon, kid, let's go.”

 

Stiles took a final drink of his juice as he stood up as well, quietly mumbling a “Thanks for the juice, Cas,” as he went. Stiles grabbed his backpack off of the chair in the hall that rested against the wall near the stairs. The teen was quiet the entire walk out to the car and as Dean drove him toward the school, resting his head on the cool glass of the window.

 

“You okay, kiddo?” Dean questioned after a few blocks, glancing over at Stiles several times in-between checking the road ahead of him.

 

Stiles nodded without lifting his head, humming out a response. “Head still hurts.” He felt as though he had run into a wall, or maybe run over by a truck. Either way, his head was pounding and it made it hard to concentrate. Stiles sat up fully then when Dean reached over and placed the back of his hand against the teen's face. “What're you doing?”

 

“No fever. You'll be fine.” Dean nodded once to himself, replacing both hands on the wheel with a nod of his head. Stiles rolled his eyes, but smiled faintly anyway.

 

When they got to the school, they found Derek hanging around with Erica, Boyd, and Isaac in the parking lot, talking quietly amongst themselves near the edge. Scott was with Allison, Lydia, and Jackson near the front doors, seemingly on edge about something. It made Dean frown, but he did not comment. “I'll walk from school,” Stiles announced as he undid his seat-belt once Dean had stopped the Impala.

 

Whatever Dean had to say in response, Stiles cut off with a slam of the car door, and he continued into the school, smiling faintly at Scott as he passed the teen who smiled brightly at him. It seemed the kid was always in a good mood.

 

By lunch that afternoon, Stiles' headache had finally gone, however several times over he found himself tense with the feeling of someone watching him. Every time he subtly looked around him, there was no one looking at him. It only put him more on edge, enough that when Scott McCall sat down across from him at the lunch table, he jumped. “Sorry,” stated Scott with a sheepish smile. “D'you mind if I sit here?”

 

Stiles raised his brow, taking a drink of his Coke before chuckling a little. “Well, not much of a choice now is there?” replied Stiles with a slight smirk. Scott looked horrified at the fact that he'd just sat down before finding out if it was okay, but Stiles waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, s'cool. Better than sitting alone again.”

 

“So, you lived here before?” Scott spoke as he grabbed a french fry off of his tray, crossing one arm in front of him on top of the table.

 

“Mmhmm, long time ago. I don't remember you.” Stiles shook his head a little, glancing around them. “I remember her, him... several others; but, not you.”

 

Scott shook his head with a slight shrug. “Probably hadn't moved here yet. I only moved here about five years ago-ish.”

 

Stiles nodded at the information. “Cool. So, how'd you meet Derek Hale?” Stiles was still curious about the man that had shown up at his house not long ago. He knew the story of Laura, and how the Hales were werewolves. He wondered if that meant Scott and all the kids who ran with him were too. Stiles still did not feel like he had the full story. He knew what his uncles deemed to be _important_ , however.

 

“He helped me figure some stuff out,” Scott shrugged again, but that time with a slight smile. “Peter kind of made a mess of things.”

 

“Peter?” Stiles' brow furrowed a little at that. Wasn't that the name of the man that had shown up in the woods? Stiles was sure that was the name Derek had said when telling the man to get lost.

 

“Yeah, Peter Hale. He's Derek’s uncle. He's a little... off.”

 

Stiles nodded a little at that information. It was more than Dean or Sam had really given him. Scott seemed like a good guy, Stiles decided as they sat there talking throughout lunch. Who really cared if Scott was like the Hales? He surely didn't; and, maybe he might even make a friend.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“What's this?” Stiles asked when he got home that afternoon, finding an old Jeep in the driveway next to Dean's Impala that he and Sam were washing.

 

“For you,” answered Sam, tossing a wet rag to Stiles only to his his nephew in the face with it when the teen did not catch it, making all of them laugh even though Stiles glared when he pulled the rag off of his face. “Help us with this.”

 

“Yeah, okay.” Stiles walked over and dropped his backpack onto the front step before walking over to help his uncles finish cleaning off the blue Jeep. “This is really cool.” Stiles could not keep from smiling as they worked. He'd never had a car of his own before, and not having to rely on Sam and Dean to drive him around would be a great sense of freedom that he definitely wanted.

 

The three of them sat on the front porch with a bottle of soda each after they finished washing the Jeep, watching as Cas sat in the middle of the front yard talking quietly with a cat. He probably looked insane to anyone who did not know him, but Dean had to mask a smile behind his drink at the sight of the angel.

 

It was almost dark when Stiles announced he was going to order them some pizza before the teen got up, taking Sam's offered wallet, and went inside. It was then that a black Camaro parked out in front of the house, making both Sam and Dean straighten up a little more, tensing until they watched Derek Hale exit the car. “Derek. What's up?” questioned Sam with a smile, standing up while brushing off the back of his jeans. The smile faded when he noticed the serious, dark expression on the werewolf's face. “Derek?”

 

“There's something going on,” Derek answered after a moment, idly wetting his lips as he seemed to struggle with the right words to say. His eyes flickered toward the house when Stiles came outside, smiling as he almost started to announce the pizza was ordered only to stop when he saw Derek standing there. “Out in the woods, Lydia saw... something odd. She said it was like black smoke, but there's no fire.”

 

Sam and Dean shared a look before looking over their shoulders toward Stiles, who clenched his jaw and his fists on either side. “Demon,” Stiles stated quietly, though all of them heard him clearly.

 


End file.
